


Cosmic Lattes

by DionysusCrisis



Series: Every Star Another Sun [3]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Anxiety, Established ZaDf, Fluff and Angst, Irkens are cats, Massage, Older Dib (Invader Zim), Tags May Change, Touch-Starved, aiming toward the fluff side i swear, heading toward qpp zadr, space adventures, two idiots trying to protect each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DionysusCrisis/pseuds/DionysusCrisis
Summary: A couple months have passed since galactic adventurers Dib and Zim shut down a sadistic "Battle Zoo," barely escaping with their lives. They came away from the experience with some neat souvenirs, including but not limited to: physical scars, emotional trauma, and an archenemy who's determined to rebuild the fallen Irken Empire in her own vile image.With that in mind, Zim plans to treat Dib to a day of R&R on a resort-like rainforest planet before they get back to business. Unfortunately, it's hard to relax when you're harboring secrets from each other, and it's only a matter of time before the truth comes out.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: Every Star Another Sun [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636579
Comments: 46
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This little interlude relies heavily on events from the previous parts of this series. I hope you'll give 'em a read first. Enjoy!

If Dib would just stop screaming for a moment, maybe he’d appreciate the scenery.

Zim had expected Dib to be impressed with the planet Dendroba. Sure, they were coming in a little hot, but Zim was an expert pilot. He’d built this scrapheap of a ship, so he knew exactly what it was capable of and how best to fly it. Honestly, it didn’t fluster Zim at all that parts of the ship caught fire as they entered Dendroba’s atmosphere. The flames would fizzle out by the time they reached a landing zone. Nothing to fret over.

“Oooh, look down there!” Zim said, as chipper as a tour guide. “They finished that 200-story hotel they were working on last time GIR and I visited. See, Dib?”

Dib’s screams had dwindled to a continuous keen in the back of his throat. His arms were braced against the wall and the back of the shared pilot seat, and when a small panel on the exterior of the ship ripped loose and jolted the vessel, one of those hands relocated to Zim’s shoulder, nails digging sharply into his flesh.

Zim winced but continued. “You’re not even looking, Ugly.”

“Zim, we’re on _fire!_ ” Dib exclaimed, voice cracking.

“Only a little,” Zim said.

“ZIM!!!”

“It’s fine! Zim has accounted for this eventuality. Look. It’s already blowing out.”

A black trail of smoke billowed and dissipated behind the ship as the wind whisked the flames away. Apparently, this wasn’t sufficient reassurance for Dib.

“We’re going to crash!” he insisted.

“I know what I’m doing. Just sit back and enjoy the view. Like GIR,” Zim said.

GIR flopped himself over the back of the wide captain’s seat and flailed his arms between Dib and Zim. “Dib! Watch me! I’m the Superman!”

“Can’t you slow us down, at least?” Dib asked, his hand still clamped on Zim’s upper arm.

“I _am_ slowing us down,” Zim said. The cruiser wasn’t as responsive to his commands as he’d like, but still. Dib was overreacting.

Though, to be fair, the surface of Dendroba _was_ rapidly filling the windshield, which probably alarmed the human a bit. Zim aimed toward a large city on the horizon, drawing back the yoke to decelerate even further and give the ventral thrusters a chance to activate.

The lush, green world beneath them grew more detailed and vibrant every second. The 200-floor hotel Zim had tried to point out before seemed awfully close… Zim could make out the individual levels, stacked like smooth pieces of green and blue sea glass, rising out of the layers of foliage.

“We’re a little low,” Dib commented in a strained tone.

“Yes, Zim is aware,” Zim muttered, yanking harder on the yoke.

More irregular, smooth-edged towers appeared among the tropical treetops. Zim had prepared a brief history of the rainforest super-cities of Dendroba to present to Dib, though he sensed now was not the time to go into it. Bubbled glass buildings flashed beneath the broad leaves of the trees that reached closer and closer to their ship, but the thrusters on the bottom of the hull were finally firing up, pushing them back toward the sky.

“I’m sure there’s a landing pad somewhere around here,” Zim said.

“You didn’t have a plan for landing?!”

“Of course I have a plan! The plan is ‘find a landing pad,’ just like it is on every planet we visit,” Zim said.

“Most other planets we visit aren’t completely covered in giant trees. Forgive me for being a little concerned!” Dib snapped.

He had a point. Many of the planets they’d been to had skyports or wide, unobstructed landing zones outside of their major metropolises. Nearly all of Dendroba, on the other hand, was densely forested, which inhibited locating landing areas by sight alone. Searching through the trees for such a place was even more difficult to do while fighting against the controls of a ship composed of junk parts and misplaced optimism.

“If you’re _concerned,_ make yourself useful and look for a place to park!” Zim said as he barely pulled out of the way of a particularly tall branch. “Watch for a large, flat circle near the top of the canopy. It should look blue or purple, and-”

Dib released his grip on Zim’s shoulder and thrust a finger toward the edge of the windshield. “Over there!”

Zim threw the yoke to the side, and the centrifugal force flung him into Dib’s body. Dib hooked an arm around Zim’s middle to stabilize him. In the small cabin space behind the seat, GIR screamed in delight as he slammed against the wall.

“We’re coming in too fast!” Dib shouted as they barreled toward the broad, violet platform.

Zim revved the ventral thrusters, causing the ship to quake and only slightly slow. They’d built up too much momentum for the ship to hover for a landing…

“We might skid a little,” Zim informed Dib with as much decorum as he could muster.

“We’re going to _CRASH_!”

Dib reached toward the yoke, but Zim’s weight kept him pinned in the corner of the seat, just out of range of it. As soon as the ship was over the platform, Zim let it touch down. Metal shrieked and the vessel shook violently as it scraped across the length of the disc. The ship rotated as it skidded, completing a full turn by the time it finally came to a stop a few feet from the opposite side of the circle.

All three passengers sat in silence for a few beats.

“I told you we wouldn’t crash,” Zim said, an unexpected quaver wobbling his words.

Somehow, Zim had managed to sit himself entirely on Dib’s lap during the landing. Dib lifted Zim aside, slowly brushed back his cowlick, and craned his neck to check just how close the nose of the ship had come to sliding off the platform.

“Unbelievable,” Dib said, and Zim sensed he didn’t mean that in a positive way.

Zim jumped to his feet between Dib and the dashboard, trying to block his view. “It’s fine! You’re going to love it here! We can go anywhere you want. Want to start at the communication hub? Or are you hungry? Or there’s this place I went to last time where you can just relax for a while.”

Dib raised a single eyebrow. “You went somewhere specifically to relax? Intentionally?”

“It is ‘self-care’ and it is important for one’s overall health and optimal performance, Dib-beast. Read a book.”

At last, Dib cracked a smile. “OK, fair enough. You just surprised me.”

“Are my claws not well-maintained? Does Zim’s skin not glow?” Zim asked, gesturing toward his face, which he knew to be bright and unblemished.

“You wear gloves most of the time. I don’t know _what_ your claws are like,” Dib said.

Zim pulled off a glove and shoved his hand into Dib’s face. “See how shiny they are? It takes _work,_ Dib.”

Dib took Zim’s hand and turned it a little, admiring his smooth claws. “Uh-huh. Very nice.”

Zim tugged his hand back. “You can appreciate them later. I must don my disguise before the parking attendant arrives.”

“I’m guessing Dendroba doesn’t take kindly to Irkens?” Dib asked as Zim climbed over the back of the seat.

“No, not historically,” Zim said. He paused to pry GIR out of a SIR-shaped dent in the cabin’s wall. “Dendroba and Irk are neither enemies nor allies. For several centuries, we’ve maintained something of a truce. Irk won’t invade Dendroba, and in return, Dendroba won’t toxin-bomb Irken territory.”

“That sounds more like a cold war than a truce,” Dib observed.

Zim shrugged as he fished his wig and contact lenses out of a compartment. “It’s as close to peace as Irk knows. Dendroba enjoys its status as a neutral planet for many races in this quadrant, considering the array of toxins Dendrobans could deploy in self-defense. Many species make use of the communication hub and resorts here, knowing that any trouble that might stir up would be instantly suppressed by chemical agents in the atmosphere.”

“What, like… Are you saying Dendroba could gas the entire population if they wanted to?”

“Dendrobans are immune to the toxins they manufacture, so if they really needed to, they could eliminate any foreign organic threats on the planet,” Zim said, spreading his eyelids with one hand and applying a contact with the other. He blinked a few times and repeated the process with the other eye. He hadn’t missed the immediate sensation of dryness that came with the damn things, but at least they effectively hid his Irken identity.

As Zim tucked his antenna beneath his wig, he turned back toward Dib, wondering why he was so quiet. The human’s brows were drawn close and he chewed at his lip.

No, that wouldn’t do. The Dib was supposed to be relaxed. This was meant to be a light, refreshing detour. Anxious faces were not allowed.

“There’s nothing to worry about!” Zim said, smiling as widely as he could. “The toxic defense system is precisely what makes Dendroba so safe! Species from across the galaxy can come here to relax without fear of violence, and in turn, Dendroba thrives on their tourism.”

“OK, but you’re still wearing a disguise,” Dib said.

“Like Zim said before: Irk and Dendroba are technically at peace, but Irk is not, eh, _well-regarded_ by the locals,” Zim said. _Or any other race in this corner of the galaxy,_ he mentally continued. The Empire may have fallen, but based on the reactions Zim had observed while he and Dib did jobs on other planets, Irkens were still viewed with suspicion. Which befit the great Irken race, Zim supposed. Still. Best not to call negative attention to himself and Dib while they were here.

Zim pulled GIR’s dog costume from another compartment and handed it to the robot. GIR scrambled into it, giggling in delight as he flipped the hood over his face.

“I missed yooouuuu,” GIR sang, hugging himself.

Dib laughed, and Zim turned eagerly toward the sound.

“What? What’s funny?” he asked.

Dib squeezed around the side of the dual pilot seat to join Zim and GIR in the narrow cabin. “Nothing. I just haven’t seen you two in your costumes for a while, and I was going to tease you for how terrible they are, but then I realized that no one on this planet even knows what humans and dogs are supposed to look like. You might actually convince people you’re a human. So, good job.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “I know you are mocking me, but I _did_ do a good job.”

“Uh-huh, _very_ good,” Dib said with a smirk. Zim’s face warmed as Dib reached forward and straightened his wig. “There. Now you look like a perfectly normal dirt-monkey.”

Zim analyzed Dib’s face for signs of distress. “So, everything is OK? You aren’t worried about the toxin bombs?”

“I-” Dib stopped the sentence as soon as he started it. He looked off into a corner of the ship, a clear tell that he was thinking through something. Eventually, he smiled and let the tension fall out of his shoulders. “I’m not worried. We’re here to have fun, right? Let’s both relax and-”

Someone knocked on the hull, and before Zim could stop himself, his PAK legs deployed. One limb trained a laser on the hatch automatically.

“Whoa, hey! Zim!” Dib’s hand closed around one of Zim’s auxiliary legs.

“Uh, hello?” said a creaky voice on the outside of the door. “Is everyone, uh, alright in there?”

The parking attendant. Of course. Who else could it be? Zim withdrew his metal limbs and smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of his tunic.

“Yes, we’re all fine,” Zim announced, putting on a particularly authoritative tone. He activated the hatch release and the door swung open. “We’ll be making use of your garage for the day.”

“Oh! Uh, sure,” squeaked the alien on the other side of the door. He resembled a bipedal Earth frog to some extent, with bulging eyes, a wide mouth, and glossy, blue-green skin. “It’s just that you, uh… You came down a little hard, and we were kinda worried that maybe-”

“Did we damage the landing platform?” Zim interrupted.

“No, it’s pretty resilient…”

“Then our ‘hard’ arrival is none of your concern. How much cred?”

The Dendroban swallowed, his protruding eyeballs pressing down into his skull to facilitate the action. “Uuuhh, we accept Monies, Galactic Cred, Dendrots, Solar Dollars, Sacrifices to the Toxic Queen-”

Zim groaned loudly and thrust a cred chip into the disconcertingly sticky palm of the attendant. “Just process the cred for a cycle’s stay.”

“Yes, of course,” the Dendroban said. He tapped Zim’s cred chip against a machine on a lanyard around his neck, then handed the chip back. “Um, so, you’ll use the panel over there to summon your ship when you’re ready to go. Please note that our parking facility is not responsible for lost-”

“Yes, yes, whatever. Come along, Dib. GIR, fetch your leash.”

Zim marched out of the smoldering vessel with his companions on his heels. Dib cringed as he took in the outside of the ship, no doubt tallying up the damages to be repaired. Before Zim could reassure him, the parking attendant spoke again.

“Your ship isn’t going to, like, _explode_ when we park it, right?”

Zim rolled his eyes so far back that it hurt a little. “Uuuggghhhhh. Everyone is so dramatic! Zim’s ship is _fine._ ” He thumped the side of his fist against the hull for emphasis, which caused an elevator on the back of one of the ship’s fins to drop to the ground with a clang. Zim snatched it up and chucked it into the cabin. “That was intentional. It’s a detachable part, and it was supposed to do that, because I designed it that way.”

“Right… OK,” the attendant said, frowning. “We’ll take it from here, I guess…”

“Excellent,” Zim said, then whistled for Dib and GIR to follow.

As the trio crossed the platform, Dib watched the ship over his shoulder. The glassy surface of the landing field liquified beneath the vessel, allowing it to sink down into the unseen purple depths of the garage. Zim smiled to himself, pleased by the wonderment in Dib’s face.

GIR tugged at the end of his leash to reach the elevator first. The car was built into an enormous tree trunk that supported part of the platform and the vast, cylindrical storage space beneath it.

Dib brushed his hand against the bark before entering the elevator. “This is incredible… These trees would dwarf redwoods on Earth.”

Zim nodded. “And the entire planet is covered with them. Just wait until you see their roots.”

Dib’s eyes gleamed as the elevator closed and delivered them to the ground level of the city. As soon as the doors parted again, Zim grabbed Dib by the wrist and pulled him out into the light, determined to keep the human’s eyes sparkling. No more crinkled brows or gnawing on chapped lips. Zim would make today _perfect_.

“Holy shit,” Dib murmured as Zim led him onto a walkway.

More colossal trees shaped the city before them, their tangled roots supporting hundreds of spherical glass stores and offices, bunched together like giant clusters of grapes, shining in the beams of light that cut through the canopy hundreds of feet above. Elevated tramways curved through the multi-tiered cityscape, wrapping around trunks and dipping beneath root archways in whimsical, organic patterns, a mechanical circulatory system on a massive scale. Blue and purple flowers – larger than Earth cars – bloomed from the vines that twisted around the lowest branches of the trees.

“Eh? Eh? What do you think?” Zim asked as he tugged at the sleeve of Dib’s coat.

“It’s incredible!” Dib said. “Just imagine the megafauna that must be native to an environment like this.”

“Oh, pfft, the Dendrobans took care of those nasty creatures _long_ before the planet became a tourist trap. Er, destination,” Zim said. He pulled GIR’s leash back before GIR could take a bite out of a hoverbike parked by the walkway.

Dib’s face fell a little. “Oh.”

Zim darted in front of him, taking both of Dib’s hands in his in order to draw his full attention. “But that’s good! Nothing dangerous here. We’re so so so so so safe. Which is good!”

“Right, yeah,” Dib said, his cheeks burning pink.

“Yes! So, where do you want to go?” Zim asked, relieved that Dib was smiling again.

“Could we start with the communication hub? Just so that’s not, you know, hanging over us all day,” Dib said.

Zim’s antennae twitched beneath his wig. “Are you worried about it?”

“No! No, not at all,” Dib said. “I just haven’t had the opportunity to talk to Gaz for a while, and I’m sure things are still weird on Earth, what with ‘Supreme Elite World Emperor Man’ and everything…”

“Blech, right,” Zim said.

“I like how Supreme Elite World Emperor Man just tells it like it is,” GIR said. “He reeeaaally gets me.”

“Not this again… You just like his hats,” Zim said as he started down the sidewalk.

“I do,” GIR admitted.

The ground-level paths of the city were crowded with the usual blend of tourists, natives, and small passenger vehicles. As Zim had predicted, no Irkens appeared among the masses. Fortunately, his genius disguise had done the trick, and no one paid Zim and his companions much mind as they approached a tramway ticket machine at the base of another tree.

“Do we have the cred to be spending on this stuff?” Dib asked while Zim requested a set of day passes.

“Of course we do,” Zim said.

“But we still have to buy parts for the Voot and your PAK. That’s why we’re out here in the first place.”

Zim slid his cred chip into the machine. “Zim is not an _idiot,_ Stinky. I have a plan. Do not-”

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” Dib interrupted.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Zim lied as the machine printed three plastic, flower-shaped tram passes. “I was _going_ to say, ‘Do not underestimate Zim’s financial prowess.’ I know what I’m doing. We have scrap from Oobli A to sell on Currus. We’ll be fine. Besides, this is Skoodge’s cred chip.”

“OK, here’s a question that I’m going to regret asking,” Dib said, following Zim and GIR onto an escalator to reach the tram stop. “Does Skoodge _know_ you have his cred chip?”

“Do you really think I would steal monies from Skoodge?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Perhaps it’s happened once or twice, but _this_ time, Skoodge gave us the chip on purpose,” Zim said.

“But don’t we…” Dib trailed off as they reached the bustling platform.

“Don’t we what?”

“Never mind. It’s not important right now.”

Zim looked up at Dib quizzically. Dib was smiling in that crooked, pleasant way of his, and that was what Zim wanted, right? This was good. So why did his spooch feel twisty?

“Uh…” Dib had apparently noticed him staring. Zim thrust a tram pass into his hand. “Oh, thanks. So. How does this work?”

Zim explained the different lines through the city, as best he could recall them. The last time he was here was when Dib was wrapping up his senior thesis. Dib had been so distracted by his work that Zim decided to run a few extrasolar errands to occupy the time. And, of course, to help Dib focus on his studies, because how could he focus on anything but Zim when Zim was around? Spending a month or two this far out in space had been for Dib’s benefit, ultimately. Not about Zim at all. He certainly hadn’t been sulking, and he hardly ever reflected on how elated Dib was to see him once he returned to Earth.

Why was he wasting time thinking about this? They had a tram to catch.

“This way,” Zim said as a glass-walled train pulled up to the platform.

Zim demonstrated how to run the passes through an energy barrier to gain access to the tram. They selected the least crowded car and sat along the side, with GIR standing on his seat, masked face pressed against the clear wall. The doors slid shut, and a low whoosh of air signaled that the tram was about to depart.

“You’re going to love this,” Zim said, elbowing Dib in the side.

The train accelerated swiftly, angling up a track toward a higher level of the city. The curved, transparent walls and ceiling of the car gave the illusion that they were in the open air, as if they were riding the back of an enormous snake as it curled up and around the trees and bubble-shaped buildings. The higher they climbed, the brighter the flashes of light that sliced through the foliage.

Eventually, they broke through the canopy and into the full sunlight again, prompting Dib to shade his eyes. Zim’s attention was fixed on Dib’s face, documenting every expression, every shift of his gaze. He looked appropriately awed. Dendroba certainly couldn’t compare to the perfect urban efficiency of Irk, but Zim could still appreciate its appeal. There was a certain rush that came from skating above the tops of sail-sized leaves like this. That, and Zim’s time on Earth had instilled in him a mild affection toward trees. No living thing that tall could be _too_ ugly.

Ahead of the tram, cradled by the leaves, sat a stadium-sized satellite dish. Dib cursed under his breath at the size of the thing, fueling Zim’s pride, even though the tech wasn’t Irken. The train slowed as it arrived at a platform under the edge of the dish. A cheerful chime sounded, and then the doors opened for the passengers to file out.

“Follow me. I’ll find a free booth,” Zim announced, taking Dib by the wrist again.

Zim tugged both of his companions forward, weaving between the other pedestrians through the wide halls of the communication hub. For all the grandeur of the city below, the hub itself was fairly plain. Its curving halls wouldn’t look out of place in an Earthen convention center.

The walls were lined with doors of various sizes, designed to compensation for the diverse demographic of visitors. Zim picked an adequately-sized door with a green light above it and herded Dib and GIR inside.

When the door closed behind them, it blocked out the noise of the other visitors completely. For the first time since they’d arrived on the planet, they were in complete silence.

A white pedestal stood in the center of the small, circular room. On the wall opposite it, a screen waited, displaying a message in several common galactic languages: “Please insert credits.”

“Wow, my ears are ringing,” Dib said.

Zim’s PAK legs immediately extended to hoist him to Dib’s level so he could inspect the human’s ear canals. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Jeez, Zim, easy!” Dib said, and gently pushed Zim back. “It’s just so quiet in here, that’s all! Why are you being so jumpy?”

“I’m not being jumpy,” Zim retorted, lowering back to the floor. “It’s just a new planet for you. Different atmosphere, different… I don’t know, different everything. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t caught ear slugs or something.”

“Ear slugs? Is that a real thing?”

“Very real, but not native to Dendroba,” Zim said.

“Also: yummy! If you find some, you gotta share. It’s the LAW,” GIR added. He unclipped his leash and began to entertain himself by rolling around on the polished, cloud-gray floor.

Dib stepped out of GIR’s way. “Everything is fine, Zim. You can relax. You told me yourself that Dendroba is perfectly safe.”

“Yes. I did,” Zim said, the twist in his gut tightening. “And Zim is honest, and wouldn’t hide any important information from you, so you can relax, too.”

Dib pressed his lips together. “Um, OK… That wasn’t… _completely_ convincing, but whatever. How do we work this thing?”

Zim stepped up to the pedestal and inserted his (well, _Skoodge’s_ ) cred chip to activate it. A keyboard and assortment of other controls materialized on the pedestal’s surface. Zim typed in Earth’s galactic coordinates, dismissing the error message that displayed when he selected the “unregistered planet.”

“Now we must locate the Dib-sister’s cellular device,” Zim said.

“You _know_ her name is Gaz,” Dib said as he lifted the TransDibber on his wrist and began to flick through screens.

Zim waved him off. “Just figure it out, Dib-stink. I need to fix GIR’s suit.”

GIR’s floor rotations had bunched the fabric around his joints, threatening to tear the seams. An exposed SIR unit was sure to raise alarms, so Zim took care to untwist the costume and fluff up its short fur into a closer semblance of a living mammal. While Zim worked on the squirming, resistant GIR, Dib tapped away on the pedestal, glancing between the large screen and the display of his wrist device.

“OK, I think I’ve got it!” Dib announced.

Zim patted GIR’s head and turned to Dib. “That quickly?”

Dib popped the collar of his coat with entirely too much confidence. “What, like navigating alien tech is a challenge to cosmic adventurer Dib Membrane?”

“Cocky little Earth-worm,” Zim muttered as he shoved Dib aside to check his work. “Huh. Looks like you found her. Ready to call?”

Dib nodded. “Let’s do it!”

Dib initiated the connection. Static buzzed for a second, then the gritty ring of a cellphone played through the room. One ring… two… three…

Zim’s squeedilyspooch spasmed again as Dib’s smirk slackened. Even GIR picked up on the tension, trotting up next to Dib’s leg and holding onto his pants with one paw in a gesture of support and anticipation.

Dib disconnected as the call went to voicemail. He drummed his fingers on the side of the pedestal.

“Try again?” Zim suggested.

“Yeah, if that’s OK,” Dib said, grinning, though his eyes weren’t in it. He pressed the “call” button and waited.

More ringing. GIR hopped up and down, tugging at Dib’s clothes and whining. Eyes still focused on the screen, Dib’s hand absently drifted to GIR’s head and started to massage the fluff between his fake ears. That settled the bot a little, but the low whine continued.

Voicemail again.

“I wonder how the call shows up on her phone,” Dib pondered aloud as the message recording played. “Maybe she’s screening it.”

“Then leave a message,” Zim said.

A beep, then Dib spoke. “Hi, Gaz. It’s Dib. I’m just checking in… I know it’s been a long time, and I’m sorry. We’re really far away, but there’s this communication hub, so… Um, call me back, I guess? Or wait… I guess you can’t really do that here.”

Dib glanced at Zim for confirmation. Zim shook his head, frowning.

“Yeah. So. Pick up the call next time? Please. Sorry, that sounded… Sorry.”

Zim tilted his head, confused by how swiftly Dib had gone from insufferably smug to bumbling and apologetic.

“Um. Love you. Talk to you later. Hopefully.”

Dib disconnected and planted his hands on either edge of the pedestal. He stared blankly at the inactive screen ahead of him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip again.

“… One more time?” Zim said.

“Does it cost each time we call?”

“It’s minimal,” Zim said.

Dib backed away from the pedestal. “Maybe she’s just busy. I don’t want to call her a bunch of times in a row if she’s sleeping or working or something. I don’t even know what time it is back home.”

“Perhaps we could return later?” Zim said.

“Yes. We could do that.”

No one moved for the door. Zim twined his claws together, overcome with unease. He cleared his throat. “Dib…?”

Zim jumped as Dib clapped his hands together and straightened his spine. “Yes!” he repeated, brighter than before, smiling in a way that Zim might describe as “crazed” in any other scenario. “That’s a good idea. Where to next?”

Zim perked up. Surely he was just overthinking things, as a mind as vast as his own was wont to do. “Cosmic adventurer Dib Membrane” posed before him, practically sparking with energy and curiosity. Despite a couple hiccups, everything was still going smoothly.

Zim smiled and cleared the pedestal of their inputs. “How about that relaxing place?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a spa day,” Dib said. “Lead the way!”

So relieved was Zim that he didn’t notice how Dib’s eyes lingered on the pedestal as Zim leashed GIR and strutted toward the door. He missed the fading flicker of Dib’s smile and the suppressed start of a sigh. Zim _did_ sense Dib’s attention on his back while he opened the door, that now all-too-familiar stare Dib thought he was being sneaky about.

But it didn’t matter. Because Zim was fine, and Dib was fine, and today would be perfect. _Or else._


	2. Chapter 2

Zim reread the results of the chemical screen on his tablet for the third time, pretending not to notice as Dib sank further down in the chair opposite him, his head lolling back in exasperation.

“Can I just drink it already? It’s going to get cold,” Dib said as Zim began his fourth review.

“Do you want your insides liquified?” Zim asked, not looking up.

Dib shrugged petulantly. “I dunno. At this point, maybe I do.”

“You’re acting like GIR. Be patient.”

“Speaking of GIR, are we sure it’s a good idea to leave him in there?”

Zim glanced through the glass wall to the spa’s “play space,” where GIR scribbled on a giant pad of paper while young aliens skirted around him, favoring jungle-gym equipment and random well-used toys.

“Oh, he’s fine. He loves it in there,” Zim said.

“Doesn’t he have a history of, uh…” Dib lowered his voice. “… Eating babies?”

“Most of the things GIR calls ‘babies’ are not _really_ babies,” Zim said. “And besides: we’ve corrected that behavioral issue. He hardly ever eats living things without my permission now.”

“Hardly ever, huh?”

“I wouldn’t leave GIR in there with a bunch of hatchlings if I thought he posed a danger to them. Zim likes babies,” Zim said as he cross-checked another compound against Dib’s biology.

“Really?”

Zim stiffened and quickly course-corrected. “Everyone likes babies. They’re cute. Shut up and drink your space coffee, pig-smelly.”

He pushed the cup across the table to Dib a little too forcefully, but Dib caught it before it could topple off the edge. He lifted the cup, sniffed at the steam rising from it (as if his inferior nose could detect anything worthwhile), then took a sip. He winced and stuck out his tongue.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“It’s still too hot,” Dib said, speech slurred by the scalded tongue sticking out of his mouth.

Zim snickered. “I thought you were worried it would get cold.”

Dib removed the lid from his cup to help the drink cool. “I mean, you got me there.”

Zim grinned in triumph and sipped from his own drink, his superior Irken mouth more resistant to the heat. As he drank, he scanned the wide, airy room. They’d apparently arrived at the spa at a good time; only a few other patrons sat at the nearby tables, nursing various artfully-crafted beverages from the neighboring café, waiting for their numbers to be called for treatment. Like many Dendroban buildings, the spa’s reception area consisted of a light, bubble-walled room that protruded about halfway up a tree, offering a broad view of the city beyond and below. The subtle coloration of the glass painted the room a serene shade of blue. Coupled with the mellow soundtrack of traditional Dendroban folk instruments playing softly though the speakers, the overall effect was almost too soporific. Zim sensed in himself the rare impulse to rest his eyes.

Though he supposed that impulse wasn’t so rare these days. It generally hit him while Dib was asleep, this parallel urge to close his eyes and drift for a while. There was no harm, Zim had decided, in curling up next to Dib for a couple hours, his antennae draped across Dib’s chest, monitoring his heart, his breathing. The human slept so fitfully some nights, his eyes roving wildly behind closed lids, his lips forming pained half-words. He tended to still a bit if Zim pressed closer to his body, perhaps out of some mammalian reflex. Those few hours at Dib’s side were truly more for Dib’s benefit than Zim’s, if he thought about it. Just another thing Zim did to maintain the human’s health, generous being that he was.

“This is weirdly good,” Dib commented, snapping Zim out of his thoughts. Dib blew on his drink and took another sip. “Do I want to know what’s in it?”

Zim flashed an impish smile as Dib licked the foam from his lips. “Nothing too unusual. The fungus that gives it its earthy flavor is harvested from decomposing-”

“NOPE. You can tell me _after_ it’s safely through my system,” Dib said.

“Wise of you.” Zim tapped at the edge of the table, summoning a holographic screen that floated above the surface. “Here. Pick what treatment you’d like.”

Dib tabbed through the menu. “I don’t know what any of these are… Could you pick instead?”

“Gimme.”

Dib obligingly “pushed” the holographic display so that it rotated toward Zim. Zim flipped through the options, dismissing any that wouldn’t accommodate human anatomy. A few resembled procedures Zim recognized from Earth, so he selected a couple of those, then entered his and Dib’s body-type details under the “other” category of species.

As Zim placed his borrowed cred chip on the table to pay for his selections, he noticed Dib’s eyes on it. “What?” he asked, a slight challenge to his tone.

Dib took another drink. “Nothing, sorry. What did you choose?”

“Something I tried last time and something new. Both should be compatible with your physiology,” Zim said, completing the transaction. “They’ll call us in a few minutes.”

The pair finished their drinks, Dib piping up every so often with questions about the assorted alien species around them. When their number came up, Zim checked one last time on GIR. Once he was satisfied that the robot was completely entranced by the drawing pad, Zim led Dib through a door to the interior of the spa.

The inside of the business was built into the living wood of the tree, its carefully-hewn hallways curving beneath the bark like termite trails, illuminated by clusters of floating yellow lights. One such cluster flickered blue and bobbed ahead of Dib and Zim, guiding them toward a wooden door which swung inward as they approached.

When they entered the small, round-ceilinged room, the blue lights warmed back to a golden color and dispersed, chasing away the shadows and revealing a pair of reclined seats, properly proportioned for the two “humans.” A sweet, powdery scent permeated Zim’s wig to waft across his antennae, and he again felt the call to sleep. He shook the feeling off and approached the seat with the smaller robe folded on it.

Dib unfolded the longer robe from the other seat and held it at a distance, as though it might bite him. “Oh… Do we have to put these on?”

“Yes. So our clothes don’t accidentally get stained,” Zim said, shuffling out of his tunic and stowing it neatly in a cubby in the wall. He repeated the process with his leggings, then slipped his arms into the cloud-soft robe and shrugged it into place. He took a moment to nuzzle into the fluffy, fresh-smelling fabric before turning back to Dib, who hadn’t moved.

“Hurry up and put it on. The aesthetician will be here any moment,” Zim said.

“… OK. Could you turn around, though? So you’re not staring at me?”

Zim rolled his eyes and did as Dib requested. “Fine, but it’s not as though I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Only because you don’t knock!” Dib said, his voice squeaking a little.

“Zim doesn’t understand humans…”

“Understatement,” Dib cut in.

“Shut up. You’re awfully private about your body for someone who spent years drawing pictures of me splayed open on an operating table,” Zim said.

“Can we not talk about that?” Dib said. “Also, that was… different.”

“It’s just confusing to me… Humans are so uppity about their bodies being seen, yet there are no Earth-standard uniforms. So why wear clothing at all?”

“Do Irkens only wear clothes to indicate rank?” Dib asked.

“Also for protection and warmth, which it appears humans do as well. Still. Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, you can turn around. I guess I just assumed Irkens would be, I don’t know, super conservative about nudity, but you don’t seem to care much,” Dib said.

Zim faced Dib. “Why should I care? Irken bodies share the same basic physiology. It’s the _clothing_ that’s important. It communicates our rank, status, even our health and fastidiousness. Would you trust an Irken with stains on their uniform? Of course not.”

“What about Skoodge?”

“Oh. Well. Skoodge is different. Usually, an unkempt appearance reflects poorly on an Irken’s character. I’m starting to suspect that he was issued a stained uniform in the first place.”

As Zim spoke, Dib’s eyes traveled down the gap in Zim’s robe, pausing at the scar that started beneath his ribs. Zim cinched his robe quickly to hide it before taking his seat. Dib removed his glasses to give them a quick, nonchalant polish as he followed Zim’s lead, settling into his own chair as though nothing had happened.

Zim adjusted his robe around his PAK, creating a cushion so that the device remained hidden but was more comfortable to recline against. He’d been careless in covering that ugly little reminder across his abdomen… Dib was supposed to be enjoying this break, not thinking about what they were taking a break from in the first place.

Still, Zim couldn’t stop himself from picturing the scars scattered across Dib’s body as well. Dib had assured Zim that he was back to full functionality, but Zim mistrusted his self-assessment. Humans were fragile and took so long to heal, even with the aid of alien technology. Wandering around on Dendroba was one thing, but Currus – the next planet on their itinerary, the one where they intended to barter for Voot parts – was not as idyllic. Calling the markets on that barren rock “rough” would be generous. Zim had never been there himself, but Skoodge had painted a vivid picture for him of seedy marketplaces and vigilante justice.

_“Get in, make your trades, and get out.”_

That had been Skoodge’s advice. Perhaps Zim could convince Dib to stay behind while he and GIR did their business. He could leave Dib on the ship, but then Dib might sneak off to join him anyway. It would be much harder for Dib to follow Zim into a potentially dangerous market if Zim temporarily marooned him on Dendroba, however…

The awkward silence in the room was broken by the creak of the door. The Dendroban aesthetician entered and smiled benignly at Dib and Zim. She was tall for a Dendroban, nearly Dib’s height, and her red skin was marked with blotchy black stripes.

“Good afternoon,” she said, and touched her rounded fingertips to her chest in a polite greeting. “My name is Pell. I’ll be administering your treatments today. However, I haven’t worked on a…” She hesitated and checked a small device in her other hand. “… A ‘human’ before. Please allow me a moment to detect your skin type.”

“Sure,” Dib said with a crooked smile. Zim could smell his nervous sweat. “I’m Dib, by the way. And this is Zim. And I’ve never been to a place like this before. Which is probably incredibly obvious right now.”

Zim kicked Dib’s foot to stop his babbling.

Pell merely smiled again. “That’s quite alright. I hope I can make your first visit a pleasant one! Now, please lean back and be still a moment while I get a reading.”

Dib – looking approximately as relaxed as an electrified Chihuahua – lay back against the seat while Pell held her little device in front of his face. The device dinged and Pell nodded, apparently pleased with the result. She then stepped up to a blank wall, which transformed when she pressed the device into it. A table formed out of the wood as if by magic, and the seams of cabinet doors suddenly appeared within the patterns of the tree.

Dib’s hands unclenched from the armrests for a moment as he watched Pell open various doors, retrieve colorful bottles, and begin to mix something in a sea-green bowl. As she worked, Dib whispered a question to Zim.

“Is this going to be some kind of facial?”

Zim nodded.

“If she’s mixing something special for human skin, is it going to be safe on _your_ skin, too?”

Oh. Zim hadn’t thought of that. No matter: he had a solution.

“Excuse me, Peel?” Zim said.

“Pell,” Dib corrected under his breath.

“Right, Pell, that’s what I said,” Zim hissed back.

The Dendroban set aside the bowl. “Yes?”

“Humans have very diverse skin types. What’s ideal for Dib may be less so for Zim,” said Zim. “You may need a reading for me as well.”

“I can screen you, if you’d like,” Pell said. “However, I already have an excellent mix for Irken skin in mind.”

Both Zim and Dib sat up straight and exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“HA, Irken?!” Zim exclaimed. “I see no Irkens here! Just two normal Earth-monkeys with normal, delicate, Earth-monkey flesh! I’m completely covered in fragile, easily-torn ape skin!”

“Laying it on a little thick,” Dib warned him quietly.

Pell blinked her large, amphibious eyes. “Are you not an Irken?”

“Did you not read the form? Zim is an excellent – no, _perfect_ – human specimen,” Zim said.

“I assumed there was a typo,” Pell said. “Please forgive me… I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that I’ve treated several Irkens, and I didn’t realized the resemblance they share with humans.”

“I’m sorry… Did you say you’ve worked with Irkens before?” Dib asked.

“Of course,” Pell said, looking more confused by the minute. “They stop by sometimes on the way to Currus. There’s a city there that deals in mostly Irken goods, or so I’m told.”

Dib leaned forward. “Do you know the name of the city?”

“Calamus? Maybe?”

“Hold on. You’ve treated Irkens before??” Zim asked.

Dib lifted a brow. “Zim, I literally just asked that. Also, you’ve _been_ here before, so…”

“Yes, but I maintained my flawless disguise the whole time!” Zim said.

“Is your friend alright?” Pell asked Dib.

Without noticing the transition, Zim found he was now standing on his seat. Dib grabbed his forearm, silently imploring him to sit back down.

“That’s an unexpectedly complicated question, but yes, he’s fine,” Dib said as Zim settled back into the chair. “We’re just surprised. We didn’t expect Dendroba to have many Irken visitors.”

Pell relaxed a little and resumed mixing her treatment. “Ah, I see. It’s true that they’re fairly rare, but they do come through sometimes. Some even live here. My understanding is that they’re mostly refugees or deserters.”

“Right… the Resisty are still occupying Irk,” Dib said, his expression grim.

Pell nodded. “The nations of Dendroba don’t have a unified stance on Irkens as a species, but they’re not necessarily unwelcome here. The Empire isn’t a threat anymore. If individual Irkens want to patronize our businesses or make a living for themselves on Dendroban soil, who cares? But that’s just my personal opinion. I know plenty of people who’d disagree.”

“I wonder what happened to the Irkens still on former-Empire planets,” Dib said, mostly to himself. “Are they prisoners now? The Resisty can’t just sit on Irk indefinitely…”

“Can we get on with the treatment?” Zim snapped, keen on getting Dib back to relaxation mode.

“Of course,” Pell said. “But… Which treatment should I do for you? Human or…?”

“Irken,” Dib answered for Zim.

While Pell started on another blend, Zim kicked Dib’s ankle again.

“What?” Dib whispered harshly. “Would you rather she burned your skin off with whatever’s in the human facial? You don’t exactly have the best track record with that kind of thing.”

Zim couldn’t argue with that. It seemed like every substance on Earth was capable of harming him. Irken skin was still leagues ahead of human skin from an evolutionary perspective, but Dib was probably right to assume that a paste designed for an Earth-ape wouldn’t be safe for Zim.

Pell started with Dib. She removed his glasses and wiped down his face with some kind of monkey-safe cleanser before applying the pale blue lather she’d mixed. As she went, Dib bombarded her with questions about Dendroba. Whether out of professional courtesy or simple kindheartedness, Pell answered as many inquiries as she could, from the nature of the instruments in the ambient folk music to the basics of arboreal architecture. Zim stifled a laugh when Pell had to ask Dib to sit back for her to finish. He’d nearly gotten out of his seat in his excitement over Pell’s description of the massive sloth-like creatures that once dominated the planet.

Dib continued his deluge of questions as Pell moved on to Zim. The lilac-colored salve tingled pleasantly on his skin, and its light, floral aroma nearly melted Zim into the cushion of his chair. After spending so much time in a cramped ship with an oily, musky human, the gentle scent of the paste was like an olfactory cleanse. It wasn’t that Zim hated Dib’s smell. It was merely… strong, sometimes.

Pell said something about giving the masks time to work, and Zim distantly registered the opening and closing of the door. He let out a slow breath and sank deeper into the seat.

“Calamus,” Dib said.

“Eh?”

“That’s where we should go on Currus, right? If that’s where other Irkens are getting supplies, it’s probably a good place to look for PAK and Voot parts.”

Zim opened one eye to glare at Dib. “Yes, sure.”

Dib squinted, scrunching up some of the goop on his face. “Are you making a mean face right now? I can’t see very well.”

“Yes. I’m making a mean face,” Zim said.

“… Oh. No business-talk today. Got it,” Dib said.

For a couple minutes, they listened to the melodic thrum of some kind of stringed instrument through the hidden speakers of the room and said nothing. It should have been soothing, but Zim kept waiting for Dib to speak up again. Somehow, that would make him feel more comfortable.

Zim reached a claw toward Dib’s chair, brushed a finger against the side of the human’s hand. “Didn’t Earth have creatures like the ones Pool was talking about?”

Dib’s hand folded over Zim’s, gripping it in excitement. “Yes! Giant ground sloths! They were around during the Pleistocene period, in South America. They supposedly went extinct thousands of years ago, but some cryptozoologists believe a few still exist in Brazil. You know, there are stories about a monster call a mapinguary…”

As Dib rambled on about folklore, rainforest Bigfeets, and the mystery of parallel evolution on a cosmic scale, Zim offered the occasional hum of agreement or surprise, urging him to continue. This soundtrack was much better than that bland Dendroban music the spa piped in. The more enthused Dib’s tone, the more at ease Zim felt. He closed his eyes and let himself drift as he listened, savoring the refreshing fragrance of the facial and the warmth of Dib’s hand on his claws. Something ached in him… A small voice in the shadowed depths of his brain, pleading for this moment to freeze, for everything to _stay…_

“…Zim?”

A charge ran up Zim’s spine, dispersing the haze that had settled over his mind. “Hm? Wha’?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Dib said. “Did you fall asleep?”

Zim opened his eyes, watching Dib in his peripheral without turning his head from its comfortable position. “Of course not, stink-face. I am very interested in your mappy-carry… thing.”

“Sure,” Dib said, and Zim didn’t appreciate the cheeky lilt to his voice. “You were just, um…”

“Just what?”

Beneath his blue paste, Dib’s face squeezed up, like he was debating sticking his hand into a fire. “Purring?”

“That cat thing?” Zim asked, confused. GIR had watched enough cute animal videos in front of Zim that he recognized the buzzing noise Earth cats sometimes made.

“Uh, yeah. The cat thing.”

Zim pulled his hand away from Dib’s and adjusted his robe. “Irkens don’t purr.”

“Oh,” said Dib. “Then, what _were_ you doing?”

“Nothing. Resting my eyes. Enjoying the sensation of impurities being drawn from my skin,” Zim said.

“But the sound you were making…”

“I made no sound. Your underdeveloped ears must have been hearing things. Perhaps you _do_ need to be checked for ear slugs.”

It was difficult to take Dib’s irritated expression seriously beneath the goop on his face. “I’ve heard you purr before, Zim. Almost every night-”

The door opened and Pell reappeared with a stack of towels in her arms. She asked a question that Dib answered, but Zim couldn’t concentrate on the words being exchanged. Dib couldn’t know of Zim’s stealthy nocturnal check-ins. Zim would have noticed the change in Dib’s heartrate if Dib had woken up. Right?

Zim wordlessly allowed Pell to wipe a damp cloth across his face to remove the cream. Even if Dib _had_ noticed Zim’s nighttime visits, Zim didn’t know what he meant about the “purring” thing. As far as Zim knew, Irkens didn’t make noise in their sleep. Of course, under normal circumstances, Irkens barely slept at all.

Zim was painfully aware of how abnormal his circumstances were.

“Zim? Are you listening?”

Dib’s voice returned Zim to the present. “Of course Zim is listening.”

“Cool. So, are you going to stand? Because they asked us to stand so they can adjust the seats for a massage,” Dib said.

“They…?” Zim jumped to his feet as he discovered a second Dendroban in the room, next to Pell. “There’s two!”

Dib, already standing by his chair as it automatically flattened itself into a massage table, cocked his head to the side. “Are you OK?”

“Yes. I’m OK. I was simply, er, very relaxed,” Zim said. As his chair started to flatten as well, Zim held up a claw. “Wait, you don’t need to adjust mine. I only need my arms and hands done.”

“Are you sure?” asked the new Dendroban. He was shorter than Pell and navy-skinned. “Our back massages are especially beneficial to clients with PAKs.”

Oh, right. The pretense had been dropped, so there was no need to hide his Irken features anymore. Truth be told, Zim’s lower back _had_ been aching lately…

“I… suppose I could try the back massage,” Zim said.

He looked to Dib for reassurance as the unnamed Dendroban instructed him on how to arrange himself on the flat, cushioned bench. Dib gave Zim a warm (if somewhat nervous) grin as he too lowered himself into position. Their robes were gently undone and folded down over their hips for privacy, but Zim could tell from the glow across Dib’s face that the human was still uncomfortable with the exposure.

Going with the suggested massage turned out to be a terrific idea. Zim lost sense of time as the knots were kneaded out of his muscles. Though his antennae’s sensitivity was muted by his wig, he still heard Dib’s breathing slow as the human relaxed into his own massage. Zim wanted to reach out again for Dib’s hand, but it didn’t seem right to do with the aestheticians present.

Zim winced a little as what he assumed to be an elbow dug into the tender area just above his PAK. When had he become so clingy? A foolish question… Zim knew full well that this embarrassing, insistent craving for Dib’s proximity had started after the Battle Zoo fiasco.

Frankly, it was a practical, logical impulse. He needed to keep closer track of Dib to prevent future separations, and physical contact helped ensure that. And humans _required_ touch for their own wellbeing, according to the research Zim had done to prepare for proper human maintenance. So what if Dib had noticed the snuggling? It was for his own good, as was all of the recent handholding. Not that there was too much of that. Just in calm moments like these, or while their rickety ship was on autopilot through a stretch of space, or when they were watching a show before Dib slept.

Too soon, the massage concluded. Zim sat up and stretched, his muscles feeling loose and rejuvenated. Dib gingerly twisted back and forth and released a contented sigh. He flashed a thumbs-up at Zim when he caught the Irken staring, and Zim smiled back, pleased that Dib hadn’t let his self-consciousness ruin the experience.

Wonderful. The day was back on track.

Dib thanked the Dendroban attendants (Zim was of the opinion that payment was thanks enough for services rendered), and then they were alone in the room again so they could dress in privacy.

“Well? Did the Dib enjoy that?” Zim asked as he slid into his shirt. It was a simple, light blue garment, not nearly as attractive as the purple one that had been ruined in the Battle Zoo, but it was functional. Maybe Zim could buy something to replace it while they were on Dendroba. Dib could use a wardrobe update too, while they were at it. He’d lost most of the clothing that had been in the Voot, and the faded jeans and thin shirt he wore now were stained with engine grease and mystery spots too stubborn for Zim to scrub out.

“Yeah, ‘the Dib’ enjoyed that,” Dib replied. “I gotta say, I was a little worried about them working on the area around my scar, but that massage was actually very, very pleasant. I’ve never done anything like this before. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“But Earth has plenty of places like this,” Zim said as he pulled up his boots.

“That’s true, but spas were never really my thing. They seemed too girly, and I used to really, uh, distance myself from that kind of thing.”

“Human gender nonsense,” Zim said, nodding sagely.

Dib laughed. “Yeah. Human gender nonsense. Anyway, once I got used to giant frog people rubbing weird stuff on my skin, I had a good time.”

“Are you feeling relaxed? Refreshed?”

“Yes and yes,” Dib said as he slipped his arms into his coat. He put on his glasses and let his fingers brush across his cheeks. His eyes widened. “Oh my god. Zim. My face is so soft. Come touch it.”

Dib bent a little so Zim’s hands could reach his head more easily. Zim cupped Dib’s face, gliding his thumbs over the velvety (if slightly stubbled) skin. His face _was_ soft, and not in that greasy way it got sometimes. The effect was almost hypnotic.

Dib mirrored Zim, his calloused fingertips coasting over the Irken’s face, his eyes wide and glimmering in the amber light. Without thinking, Zim leaned forward and pushed his cheek into Dib’s broad palm.

Both of them froze.

“We need to pick up GIR,” Zim announced, and Dib flinched from the volume of it.

Zim pulled away and picked his discarded robe up from the bench. He tightly rolled it before jamming it into a PAK port. He extended his hand toward Dib expectantly.

Dib held his robe close to himself. “Wait… Are you sure we can take these?”

“Yes,” Zim said.

“They’re free?” Dib asked, quirking a brow.

“Everything’s free if you’re fast enough,” Zim said, unable to stop the mischievous curl of his lips. “They’re _so_ soft, Dib. Just think about it.”

Dib tapped his foot a few times, contemplating, before shoving the robe into Zim’s arms. “If we get arrested and thrown into tree frog jail, I’m turning on you immediately. Just so you know.”

Zim cackled as he bundled up Dib’s robe and stored it in his PAK.

When they exited back into the lobby, GIR was right where they’d left him. He sat up and clapped giddily as Zim entered the colorful play-space.

“Look what I made!” GIR shouted as he ripped a leaf from the drawing pad and smashed it into Zim’s face.

Zim pushed the drawing away and leaned close to GIR, checking over his shoulder to make sure Dib wasn’t listening in from the other side of the play-space window. “Not now. Did you, eh, eat anything while Zim was away?”

“Just crayons.”

“And ‘crayons’ isn’t the name of a child, correct?” Zim was certain GIR had been trained out of such violence, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Even through the hood of the dog suit, GIR seemed to be giving Zim an incredulous look. “Crayons is crayons.”

“Yes, that’s right. Crayons is crayons. Good,” Zim said. He reached forward to clip GIR’s leash, but GIR stopped him.

“You gotta look at my drawing first!” GIR insisted, pushing the crumpled paper back in front of Zim’s eyes.

Zim stretched the sheet back out. His blood turned cold as he realized what GIR had drawn, and he hastily folded the paper and tucked it into his PAK before Dib could see it.

GIR’s fake eyes watered. “You didn’t like it? I drew it to help! So my Master doesn’t forget what they look like. So we can find them!”

GIR’s tears drew the attention of a couple nearby caretakers, and Zim knew he had to cut the waterworks off before his robot caused more of a scene.

“Good work, GIR. I’m merely saving it for a future strategy meeting. For now, we must remain true to our present objective,” Zim said.

GIR sniffled. “And whazzat?”

Zim attached GIR’s leash. “It may involve _snacks_.”

GIR sprang to his feet and raced around Zim, briefly entangling his legs. Zim caught GIR by the scruff to stop him. “No snacks if you talk about the drawing, though. Do you understand?”

“What drawing?”

“Perfect,” Zim said as he released GIR and led him back toward Dib.

“Your pores look _amazing,_ ” GIR said.

“I know, right?”

*****

They’d been wandering aimlessly through the lowest level of the city for about thirty minutes before Zim finally put his foot down.

“Dib, it will be dark soon. We must settle on something,” he said, stopping in the middle of the pebble-paved walkway, not caring that several pedestrians nearly tripped over him as he did.

Dib stepped out of the flow of traffic, into a tiny alcove with a sign designating it as a “metro-park” (though it was really little more than a bench flanked by a few flowering fern-like plants). Zim tugged GIR’s leash and joined him, plopping down on the bench with a huff.

Dib sat beside him. “Sorry, Zim. Everything you suggested sounds good, I just…”

“We can go back to the communication hub. It’s not a problem,” Zim said. At his feet, GIR had started chewing on the wooden leg of the bench. “We’ll need to pick up a snack for GIR first, however.”

“But I don’t want to waste the day,” Dib said.

Zim crossed his arms. “It’s not a waste. You wish to contact the sister-beast, and this is the way to do it. Let’s get on with it already.”

“… You sound mad.”

“What?! Zim does not sound mad!” Zim snarled.

The people on the walkway gave the “metro-park” a wider berth. Zim stuck out his tongue at a young Dendroban he caught eying him.

“You sound a little mad,” Dib reemphasized as the youngling scampered away, tears brimming in her big yellow eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

Zim slumped down on the bench. “Nothing.”

“Clearly _something._ ”

Zim growled at Dib’s insistent prying. “This is Dib’s day. I want you to _enjoy_ it but you keep – you’re so – URGH!”

Before he could find the right words to describe Dib’s behavior, something rumbled in Zim’s spooch, loud enough to be heard above the patter of foot traffic. Zim tightened his arms around himself in a hapless attempt to quiet the sound.

“Was that you?” Dib asked.

“Yes!” GIR squealed from beneath the bench.

“No. Yes. Maybe,” Zim stammered.

“OK, I see what’s going on,” Dib said, cracking a smile. “You’re hangry. You’re a hangry alien.”

“ZIM IS NOT ‘HANGRY,’” Zim rebuffed. He searched his memory for the meaning of the word and came up short. He lowered his voice. “But... perhaps Dib could remind me what ‘hangry’ is.”

“It means you’re cranky because your blood sugar is low.”

“You know NOTHING of my sugars!”

Dib chuckled, and despite Zim’s frustration with the indecisive human, he was glad for the shift in tone. “I guess not, Space-boy, but I’m hungry too. Want to show me one of those restaurants you mentioned?”

“What about the communication hub?”

Dib stood and stretched his arms over his head. “It can wait a few more hours. Maybe that will give Gaz the chance to wrap up whatever she was busy with before.”

Zim watched his back, trying to gauge his mood. Dib seemed to be at ease, and he wore that adventurous, self-assured smile Zim knew so well when he faced him again. The human reached out his hand to help Zim down.

“You ready?” Dib asked.

Zim didn’t need the assistance, but he took Dib’s hand anyway as he hopped to the ground. “Oh, I’m _always_ ready. But are _you_?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Ready for what?”

Zim shrugged and coaxed GIR back onto the walkway. “You’ll see.”

“Zim? Oh god, where are we going?”

Instead of answering, Zim giggled and quickened his pace. Dib hurried to match him.

“Zim! Where are you taking me??”

Pretty soon, they were racing each other down the street, laughing like schoolchildren. For the moment, Zim forgot about the drawing folded inside his PAK: the childishly-rendered image of Beep and her SIR, like the galaxy’s clumsiest wanted poster. Dib was smiling again, and that’s all that mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised: this chapter talks about depression and anxiety and briefly references some implied past self-harm.

Zim couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment the night turned south. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure things _had_ ended badly. On paper, the evening had been unremarkable. So why did he still feel this sickly slug of unease roiling in his gut?

He mentally reviewed the night’s events, starting with dinner.

It should have been a spectacle, dining in the highest levels of the canopy as the sun dipped over the horizon and set the clouds afire in blushes of tangerine and magenta. Dib had enjoyed the sunset on Oobli A so much that Zim was certain he’d go starry-eyed over this one as well.

And he had. Ish. He’d at least turned his head toward it as they waited for their meals on the treetop deck of the restaurant. But there was something flat about his expression as he did so… a certain distance to his gaze, a tightness in his jaw.

They’d chatted over their food, and Dib seemed invested in Zim’s explanations of the various items on their plates. Dib even waited without complaint as Zim screened each delicacy to ensure that it wouldn’t be toxic to humans. Dib claimed to enjoy his poached marglog eggs and greenery, but Zim had caught him slipping bites to GIR under the table, even though GIR had been given his own meal. Zim wasn’t convinced Dib had eaten more than half of what he’d ordered.

Meanwhile, Zim had gone through his sugared-fruit entrée in record time. He couldn’t remember being this hungry before, which was odd, considering the nectar pouch he’d had at the start of the day should have carried him to the next morning at least. His lack of leftovers had surprised and irritated GIR, who comforted himself by eating the empty plate instead.

A few devoured pieces of tableware later, and the staff requested that Zim and his companions leave.

It was just as well. Dib had been bouncing his leg and checking his TransDibber over and over toward the end of the meal, presumably calculating the time difference between their position on Dendroba and Gaz’s location on Earth.

Zim heard him muttering numbers to himself during the tram ride to the communication hub.

Outside, the oversized blooms they’d seen earlier in the day shone with blue and purple bioluminescence, flashing the car with neon colors as they zipped by. Even with his ocular enhancements, Zim strained to read the emotion in Dib’s face between bursts of light. As far as he could tell, the human was too absorbed in thought to register the nightscape.

And then came the most likely candidate for “reasons the night ended poorly.”

When they arrived at the hub, half of it was cordoned off for a massive maintenance issue. Queues had formed outside of the remaining functional rooms, and while Zim insisted waiting was fine, GIR complicated matters. Despite not technically requiring very many recharge sessions, GIR was particular about his naps, and liked to sleep when Dib did. After about an hour of slowly inching through an ever-lengthening line, GIR got antsy. He strained against his leash, distracted by every passerby, and wailed when Zim reined him in. He sang loudly about doom and cupcakes, and when Zim suggested he can it, GIR threw himself down and pounded his arms on the floor until a team of security personnel showed up to ask what the matter was.

Zim thought he’d done a good job of winning the guards over, but Dib interrupted the discussion, saying he’d rather call it a night and return in the morning. With GIR flailing on the ground like a hooked fish and a crowd of frowning aliens closing in on all sides, Zim couldn’t argue.

So they left.

It was a silent ride back to the garage. Zim hailed their ship, which emerged from the ether for them to board, and used the automated pavilion to request the vessel be stored on the lowest level, so Zim could more easily patch it up while Dib slept. Dib didn’t so much as glance at the complex system that operated the garage, and while Zim clocked it as out of character, he didn’t comment. Whenever Zim spoke, it felt too loud, too grating. The experience was unusual for him. He didn’t like it.

Zim expected that Dib would at least offer some snide remark about the damages to the ship and the quantity of scrap parts Zim unloaded from the small cargo quarter to repair it with. Instead, Dib immediately unfurled his sleeping mat and assorted blankets in the tiny cabin and wished Zim a good night.

Zim wanted to say something. Zim _should_ have said something. But he didn’t. He watched GIR curl up at Dib’s feet and power down, and then Zim simply left them to it.

Working within the garage’s ether-field was suffocating. Not literally, of course. Aside from the muted purple tint to Zim’s surroundings, there was no discernible difference between the atmosphere within the ethereal column and the outside air. But it was so quiet, and any possible view of the sky – or even of the canopy – was blocked by layers and layers of suspended ships.

This close to the bottom, there was enough gravity for Zim to stand on the ground beneath his floating vessel and work on its scraped keel. Several panels had been torn away during their landing, but it was nothing a little soldering couldn’t fix. He called a set of tools out of his PAK and fell into the cozy familiarity of ship-maintenance, where his buzzing thoughts were muzzled.

Zim wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he was yanked out of his zone by an intense heat on the side of his claw. He flinched away with a yelp and blew on his singed finger. The soldering beam must have gotten too close… How careless of him.

Zim sat down to assess his work, removing his glove and sticking his claw in his mouth to soothe the burned finger. He’d patched most of the keel, but he couldn’t deny that some sections looked a bit sloppy. He could retouch those areas once he had some daylight to work with, no problem. In the meantime, he could move on to the elevator that had detached earlier. He’d need a few extra pieces of hardware for that, though.

As he contemplated what parts he’d need before climbing the fin, Zim lay back. The ground was more comfortable than he’d expected, and it was nice to rest for a moment before proceeding to the next job. Zim closed his eyes, just for a few minutes…

“Master?”

Zim jerked upright and banged his head against GIR’s. He squealed and clasped a hand over his forehead while GIR stared at him, unaffected by the collision.

“GIR! I’m in the middle of something!” Zim said as he sat up.

“The middle of a nap?”

“Yes! I mean, no!” Zim said, forcing his voice into a stage whisper. “What do you want? Is something wrong?” Zim’s eyes widened. “Is Dib alright?”

“Dibby is too wiggly and I couldn’t sleep. Can I help? Can I? Please?” GIR pressed his metal claws together hopefully.

“No, GIR. I can…” Zim yawned. “I can… Zim was doing something. I think.”

GIR pointed up at the underbelly of the ship.

“Repairs. Yes, of course. I have work to do on the fin,” Zim said as he rubbed his eyes and stifled another yawn.

GIR suddenly clapped his hands on Zim’s cheeks, squishing his face. “My master is a sleepy baby.”

“Knock it off,” Zim said, but he didn’t struggle away from GIR. Having his head held up by the robot felt strangely pleasant.

“Want me to tuck you in?” GIR said.

Zim growled and begrudgingly pulled out of GIR’s grasp. “Stop that. I have a lot to accomplish before dawn. Even if I _wanted_ to lie down for a while – not that I do – I can’t simply…”

GIR tilted his head. “Can’t what?”

Zim folded his arms. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You right,” GIR chirped, falling onto his rump in front of Zim and smiling innocently.

Zim drummed his fingers on his arm, debating whether opening up to GIR would bite him in the ass later. “You know how I sometimes, er… lie down with Dib for a few minutes? To monitor his sleep, of course.”

GIR nodded vigorously, then plopped his chin in his hands, like a child invested in a bedtime story.

“Dib has, uh, noticed me doing that. So I can’t just walk in there and snuggle-” Zim shook his head, like doing so could retroactively erase his poor word choice. “I can’t monitor him anymore. I may as well stay out here and get some work done. The sooner we’re shipshape, the faster we can leave this stupid, stinky planet.”

GIR pouted. “Aw, but I like it here…”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I was loud at the sky pancake,” GIR said, his frown deepening in shame.

Zim sighed and patted the robot’s head. “It’s OK, GIR. It was a long day. You were tired. We were all tired.”

GIR straightened. “So you should go to sleep! You can have my spot on Dibby’s feetsies.”

“I already told you why I can’t. And you know that I don’t _need_ to sleep anyway. I’d be wasting time. You saw how nervous Dib was about the damages to the ship… Better to just get this done,” Zim said. He stood and withdrew a case of supplies from the open cargo hatch. “Do you still want to help?”

GIR nodded, but with notably less enthusiasm than before. Zim dragged the case of hardware over to his minion and instructed him to sort through a jumble of bolts while Zim retrieved the disconnected elevator from the cabin. He’d be as swift and silent as a shadow so as not to disturb Dib’s rest.

The passenger hatch was mercifully quiet at Zim opened it and slipped into the dark living space. Zim immediately spied the broken elevator plate behind the pilot’s seat, where he’d tossed it earlier in the day. He took a grounding breath before sneaking past the lump of blankets that concealed Dib on the cabin floor.

Zim stopped in his tracks as the blankets stirred. He thought he heard a voice, but between the blankets and his wig, he wasn’t sure. Moving slowly, Zim removed his wig and contacts, which he’d kept on as a precautionary measure until now. His stiff antennae wiggled out the kinks they’d formed while trapped under the wig and then swung forward, sensing for noises from Dib’s pallet.

Shaky breathing, the tang of salt in the air, the crackling edges of a whimper…

“Dib?” Zim’s claws reached to shuck away the covers, but he stopped himself.

The sounds abruptly quieted.

“Are you OK?” Zim tried again, his hands clenching and unclenching, resisting the impulse to rip away the covers.

“I’m fine, Zim.” Dib’s voice was small.

“Are you sick?” Had Zim’s scanner missed something at dinner? A toxic food? Damnit, he _knew_ he should have screened everything a fifth time… “Are you nauseous? Let Zim see you. I might need to-”

The blankets curled in tighter around Dib. “No! No, I said I’m OK. I’m just trying to sleep.”

Zim narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

Dib didn’t answer.

An ugly, guilty thought crossed Zim’s mind. “If you’re worried that I’m going to…” He wasn’t even sure how to phrase it, so he started over and kept it vague. “I’m not here to bother you. I’m only here to get supplies to fix the ship.”

Dib sniffled and the mound of blankets shifted slightly. “What do you mean? About ‘bothering’ me…”

Zim swallowed. “At the spa, you said you heard me… uh… _purring_ at night. I thought, maybe…”

The cocoon sat up, and Dib’s face emerged from a hood of blankets to look at Zim. “That doesn’t bother me.”

Zim couldn’t allow himself to feel relieved just yet. “What about… when I…”

“Come here,” Dib murmured. “Please.”

Zim approached cautiously, his antennae leading the way, still tasting salt in the air. Beneath the edge of Dib’s blanket hood, Zim detected the gleam of fresh tear tracks down his cheeks.

Zim’s claws lifted toward his own face. “Dib, what’s-”

Dib’s hands extended from his one-man blanket fort and encircled Zim’s waist. Zim let himself be drawn down into Dib’s lap and reflexively hooked his legs around Dib’s back so he could press against him, chest-to-chest. The blanket slid off of Dib and puddled around them, a warm little nest that smelled like tears and sweat and Dib’s aromatic pomade. After a second of hesitation, Zim settled his chin on Dib’s shoulder and let his arms loop around the human’s torso.

Dib’s large, warm hands crossed beneath Zim’s PAK, and he released a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on?” Zim asked, softly.

“I’m afraid it’s going to get bad again.”

Zim said nothing, worried that saying the wrong thing might break the moment.

Fortunately, Dib proceeded unprompted. “You know how the sky gets right before a storm? There’s this thin, yellow light over everything, and the air feels crackly, and the wind moans through the trees… You feel it in your chest, this tingling energy, and you can’t get rid of it. You can’t stop the rain. You can’t outrun a tornado. You can only take shelter, and sometimes, even that’s not enough. That’s what it feels like right now.”

“It’s going to be OK, Dib,” Zim said. He wanted to lean back and look him in the eyes, but the warmth of the embrace was too intoxicating to leave. “We’ll stop Beep. We almost had her before.”

“We almost _died_ before,” Dib said. “And that’s not even what I mean. Well, it’s a little what I mean, but really… I don’t know. I guess I’m talking about _me._ I’m afraid _I’m_ going to get bad again. Like when we were in hi skool, and I couldn’t get out of bed some mornings. Or I’d zone out and zombie my way through the day, and when I got home, and the house was quiet and empty, I’d…”

Zim tensed, squeezing tighter around Dib’s ribcage.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Dib said quickly. “But – and this is the shitty thing – I kind of _miss_ feeling like that. The intensity of it. It used to be this giant, all-encompassing numbness that would settle over me, suffocate me. It felt so big and real, and I sometimes miss it, even though I know I’m better now. Like, I’m managing, I’m taking my meds, and I’m paying attention to where my thoughts go. And that’s good, and all things considered, I _feel_ good. So why do I miss the extreme of it? Does that make me an awful person? It’s like I can’t even do recovery right…”

Zim nuzzled into the crook of Dib’s neck. “That’s not true.”

“I don’t know, Zim. We barely survived the Battle Zoo. That’s the biggest, scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, even compared to the bullshit _you_ used to put me through.” Dib caught himself. “Uh, no offense…”

“None taken,” Zim muttered into Dib’s shirt.

“That’s as close as I’ve ever come to death, and the person responsible for that is still out there, planning to sow chaos on an even wider scale. So shouldn’t I feel that giant spike of emotion like I used to? I’m waiting for it to shatter me,” Dib said. “I keep thinking that if I pretend it’s all OK, maybe it will pass me by. I have these moments where I swear I could save the world… the _universe_ … But then the doubt hits me, and I’m ashamed for thinking I can do anything. I can’t even save myself.”

“You don’t need to save yourself. Zim will save you.”

“That’s not…” Dib gave up on whatever he was about to say. “Thanks, Zim. It just feels like too much sometimes. I don’t like that we aren’t using our own money right now. I don’t like how this tin can of a spaceship almost fell apart on reentry. I don’t like that I haven’t been able to reach Gaz. For all I know, Supreme Elite World Emperor Man already kicked off a nuclear Armageddon on Earth, and I didn’t do anything about it. I fucking ran away.”

Dib’s voice cracked, and his shoulders shook with another round of subdued sobs.

“I’m so fucking stupid… I’m a selfish, cowardly piece of shit, and whining about it just makes it worse,” Dib said once he regained some control. “You worked so hard to make this a good day, and I crapped all over it. You deserved a nice fucking day, and I ruined everything.”

Zim finally pushed himself back so his eyes met Dib’s. “You didn’t ruin anything! It was a good day! Wasn’t it?”

Something shifted in Dib’s tear-chafed face, an emotion that Zim couldn’t readily identify. “Yeah, but… Listen, Zim. I thought that if I held it together all day and helped you relax, then maybe you’d tell me the truth.”

Zim leaned further back. “The truth? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your PAK.”

Zim’s antennae dropped back to lie flat against his skull. “I already told you the truth about my PAK.”

Dib’s glassy eyes hardened. “Zim… I thought we were past this.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I told you about the corruption Rek found. I told you that it’s gradually spreading. I told you we can fix it,” Zim said, glowering. “What else do you want from me?”

“I want to know why you’re sneaking into my bed at night!” Dib exclaimed, as if that should have been obvious. “I want to know why you’re making weird noises and falling asleep during facials. I want to know why you’re sleeping at all! You’re acting like nothing is happening, but something is _obviously_ happening!”

“You’re right, Dib.”

“It shouldn’t be so hard for you to just tell me- Wait, did you say I’m right?” Dib asked.

Zim nodded. “I’m compensating. Sleeping allows my PAK to recharge a little. It helps counteract the effects of the corruption.”

“Then why have you been so dodgy about it?”

“Because it’s _embarrassing_ ,” Zim hissed. “I shouldn’t need to sleep, but it helps, and that’s frustrating to me.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Dib said. “I was just worried that this was part of that ‘gradual spread of the corruption’ you mentioned.”

“It isn’t,” Zim said.

“But are you sure?”

Zim pressed himself against Dib’s front again, resting his head beneath Dib’s jaw. “I told you that the corruption has been there for a long time, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did,” said Dib.

“It’s taken years for that corruption to have any real, tangible effect, right?” Zim continued.

“Right…” Dib said. His voice sound much more resonant with Zim’s head so close to his throat.

“That’s how gradually it spreads,” Zim said. “Yes, we’ll need a replacement part to prevent further damage, and we’re on our way to do that. It’s going to be fine. In the meantime, I’m just taking advantage of opportunities to rest so I don’t put additional strain on the PAK. Which is good of Zim, correct?”

“Yes, definitely,” Dib agreed, but Zim sensed a degree of uncertainty. “But I’m still a little confused…”

“About what?”

“Why are you sleeping with me?”

“Because I need to keep close tabs on you, especially if both of us are going to be unconscious.” Zim squirmed closer to Dib, knowing he had to throw him a bone here, especially since the version of the truth he’d just presented wasn’t 100% accurate. “And… because it’s… nice.”

“Oh,” said Dib.

“But I can stop if you’d prefer,” Zim added. “I can make my own nest, and-”

“No, that’s OK,” Dib interrupted. “I think it’s nice, too.”

A weight lifted from Zim’s chest. He closed his eyes and soaked in Dib’s warmth. They’d hugged before, but this was something new. Their bodies fit together so naturally… Zim wondered if they could sit like this forever. He wanted to preserve this slice of time like a specimen, make it something that he could come back to again and again. His claws gripped the soft fabric of Dib’s shirt tightly. Maybe if neither of them moved, the moment would last indefinitely.

“Zim…”

“Mm?”

“Purring,” Dib said so quietly that Zim’s antennae almost missed it.

Something tickled in the back of Zim’s throat, but as soon as he directed his attention toward it, it disappeared.

Dib shifted backwards, his hands still on Zim’s back, guiding him down into the blankets. Zim didn’t move as Dib rearranged his bedding around them and pulled the covers up over them both. They lay on their sides, facing each other, foreheads almost touching. Even in the dim, purple light that filtered in from outside, Dib’s caramel eyes looked bright.

Zim blinked slowly. He wanted to keep watching Dib’s face, cataloging its details: the crisp line of his chin, the subtle upturn of his nose, the faded scar beneath his cheekbone. His vision blurred as his eyelids fought to stay open.

“You’re really tired, aren’t you?” Dib whispered.

Zim nodded. Words felt like too much effort.

“It’s OK. You can close your eyes,” Dib said. “I just have one more question for tonight.”

Zim curled up against Dib’s chest. “Mm-hm?”

“You’d tell me if something else was going on, right?”

“Of course,” Zim mumbled, shrinking into a tighter ball.

Dib’s arm reached across Zim’s body, cupping him even closer. “OK, Zim. I trust you.”

Zim bit his lip and reminded himself that he hadn’t technically lied to Dib. Except perhaps about the speed at which the corruption was spreading. And maybe about the sleep thing… This exhaustion didn’t feel like much of a choice. Neither had his hunger.

Rek’s rough voice haunted his fading consciousness.

_“He’s going to notice, Zim.”_

He had a year. Well, less than a year now… But that didn’t matter. Dib never had to know that PAK failure was even an option. Zim would fix everything well before it came to that. Zim could handle a little extra sleep and the occasional sugar-binge in the meantime.

Whatever storm Dib thought was on the horizon was no match for the almighty Zim.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, sleepy. It’s time to get up.”

Zim cracked open one eye at the sound of Dib’s soft voice. Dib crouched in front of him, his hand holding up the blanket that had previously been over Zim’s head, trapping his heat. Zim trembled at the cool outside air and reached to pull the blanket back down.

“Nuh-uh, no going back to sleep,” Dib gently taunted as he drew the blanket further away.

Zim grumbled and curled in on himself to preserve what warmth he could. “It’s too early, Dib-beast…”

“The run rose almost an hour ago, Zim.”

Zim’s antennae sprang to attention and he sat up so quickly that the room seemed to spin for a moment. “What?!”

“Shh, calm down,” Dib said, his finger over his lips.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” Zim demanded.

“I thought you could use the sleep,” Dib said. “Besides, we still have plenty of time before we have to move the ship out of the garage. I figured you could rest a little longer, and then we could try calling Gaz again.”

“Hmph.” Zim swung his antennae forward and began to preen them with his claws, straightening out the sections that had bent overnight. As he worked, he watched Dib from the corner of his eye. “You seem to be in a better mood, Stinky.”

Aside from some puffiness around his eyes, Dib’s face showed little evidence of his midnight breakdown. He smirked at Zim. “Yeah, I’m feeling a bit better this morning. Everything seemed so overwhelming last night, but I think it helped to talk about it a little. I’m sorry I dumped it on you like that, though. I know how stressed you must be, too.”

“I have nothing to be stressed about. All is going according to plan,” Zim countered, brushing out the ends of his feelers. The sensation sent a shiver of up his spine.

Dib sighed loudly, then reached into his coat pocket to pull out a nectar pouch. “Anyway, I grabbed you one of your Irken juice box thingies, if you’re hungry.”

Zim snatched it out of Dib’s hands, extended its straw attachment, and greedily sucked at the pouch’s contents.

“Wow, I guess you _were_ hungry,” Dib commented.

Embarrassed, Zim stopped himself from downing the sweet, syrupy ration in one go. “What about you? Have you broken fast?”

“You’ve lived on Earth long enough to know that nobody says that, you weirdo,” Dib said. “But yeah, I had one of my energy bars. Maybe we can get something more substantial before we leave Dendroba, but I’m good for now. I’d rather get to the communication hub as quickly as we can, in case it’s still having issues.”

Zim scanned Dib’s face for clues about the human’s mood. He’d been all over the place the past couple days… Cocky and cheerful one minute, sobbing in a pile of blankets the next. Mere hours ago, Dib was convinced that Earth had been annihilated while his back was turned, and yet now, Dib was grinning to himself as he rolled up his bedding.

The best option, Zim decided, was to be direct. “Are you worried that something happened to Gaz?”

Dib’s hands stilled over a partially-folded sheet. “I mean… yes, of course I am. But I was able to locate her phone yesterday, and it rang, which means Earth’s cellular network isn’t down, which probably means there wasn’t a nuclear apocalypse. I’m gonna try not to overthink it.”

Dib tugged on the blanket Zim was sitting on, and the Irken finally stood up and moved out of the way as Dib finished clearing the floor.

Zim sipped the last of his breakfast. “It must be difficult to not overthink, what with your giant-”

“No big head jokes or you’re banned from my bed,” Dib said.

Zim cackled and discarded his used pouch. “I’m checking on GIR. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Dib shot him a thumbs-up and began tucking his bedding into a compartment in the wall.

Outside, the dawn’s light filtered through the purple ether-field like sunbeams through water, subtle and shifting. To Zim’s surprise, GIR waited for him right where he’d left him last night, but now surrounded by piles of various materials.

Zim plucked a bolt from one of the piles and inspected it. “You sorted all of these?”

“Sure did!” GIR said, beaming. “I did good?”

Zim checked through the piles, shocked to discover that GIR had appropriately separated various sizes of bolts, screws, and connectors. “Yes, GIR. Well done.”

“And what do we saaay?” GIR asked, leaning forward expectantly.

“I already praised you, what more do you want?”

GIR cupped a claw next to a non-existent ear on the side of his head.

Zim groaned. “Thanks.”

GIR nodded encouragingly but continued to cup his imaginary ear, not yet satisfied.

“Thank you, GIR,” Zim sneered, enunciating every syllable and trying not to sound sarcastic. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re welcome, Master!” GIR wrapped his arms around Zim’s middle and squeezed. “I love you!”

Haltingly, Zim returned the hug. This kind of invasive affection used to drive him up the wall. Now, Zim had to admit that it was… sort of pleasant, despite GIR hugging him a little too tightly, making it hard to breathe.

Zim cleared his throat and pushed GIR away. “We need to get moving. You must stay with the ship and guard it until Dib and I return from the communication hub. Understood?”

GIR stuck out his tongue and saluted.

“Good. Let’s box up these parts and we’ll relocate the ship.”

*****

“It’s always better in the sunlight,” Dib said.

“What is?” Zim asked.

They were next in line for a room in the communication hub, leaning against the bland wall and watching the constant march of visitors. Whatever had gone wrong the night before had been corrected, but the morning crowd was formidable. Still, leaving GIR behind made it a bit easier to wait for a turn.

“You know. My brain,” Dib said. He pointed at a trio of yellow, gelatinous creatures as they slugged their way down the hall. “What are they?”

“Gluggos,” Zim replied, continuing the game of point-and-identify they’d been playing to pass the time. “What do you mean? About your brain.”

“I mean that I was kind of dramatic last night. The crying, the ‘it’s all too much’ junk…” Dib nodded toward an alien that resembled a feathery, fish-faced centaur. “That guy?”

“A Chicken-fish-horse Person,” Zim said.

“That _can’t_ be right.”

“You question Zim?”

“Wouldn’t dare. Anyway, I didn’t mean to be so weird and tearful. I get irrational at night.” Dib pointed to a pair of blue-green bipeds with mechanical body-casings. “What about them?”

Zim’s lip quivered in disgust. “Planet Jackers. _Assholes._ ”

“Huh. Do I detect some personal history there?”

“It’s nothing. What were you saying before?”

Dib shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I was just saying that I can get a little emotional sometimes, but I don’t want you to worry about it. I’m OK. We’ve got a lot on our plate, but I know we can handle it.”

“Of course we can handle it,” Zim said, puffing out his chest. He turned his head away, pretending to watch a colorful, animated advertisement on the opposite wall. In reality, his attention was on Dib, again reading him for some kind of tell. The human was acting even weirder than usual.

“I can tell that you’re staring at me,” Dib said, meeting Zim’s eyes.

“No you can’t,” Zim hastily countered.

Dib pointed at his own eyes. “Your contacts give you away.”

The light above the door to the communication chamber switched from red to green, and a Vortian exited the room, politely holding the door ajar for the next users. Dib thanked the horned alien and entered with Zim close on his heels.

Dib sealed the door behind them, instantly muting the outside world. “What I’m really trying to communicate is that I’m alright. I was overreacting last night, and you shouldn’t have seen that. I just needed to cry it out for a minute and move on. OK?”

“OK…” Zim started up the podium in the center of the room and stepped aside so Dib could track down Gaz’s phone again. He didn’t understand why Dib was being so insistent about “overreacting” or whatever. Those tears, that trembling hug last night… That had all felt so real, so _intense._ The things Dib had said about himself, about the storm he thought was coming, about feeling like a coward… Why was he backtracking now? Had he really not meant those things?

Dib smiled to himself as he navigated the screen, looking like he always did. Just a cocksure know-it-all, too pleased with himself for figuring out a glorified alien phonebooth. Zim liked that smile. Trusted it. _That_ was real. It had to be.

Maybe what had happened in the dark wasn’t so big a deal after all, and that was a good thing. Zim wanted Dib to be alright, and Dib was assuring him pointblank that he was. Some nights, Dib just needed to say those scary things, and Zim just needed to curl up with him and sleep. And then dawn would come, and they wouldn’t have to talk about it, and everything would be fine. It was healthy. It was normal.

It was too much to think about right now.

“Got her,” Dib said. His hand floated over the call button. “Should we give it a try?”

Zim nodded. Dib pressed the button.

Ringing.

Ringing.

Zim felt like he’d swallowed ice. Dib hissed a breath through his teeth, his eyes locked on the rounded screen on the wall in front of them.

Ringing…

A click.

“Dib? Is that you?”

Gaz’s voice filled the room, and an instant later, her face appeared on the screen.

“Gaz!” Dib’s voice cracked, making him sound like a kid again. “Holy shit! Can you see me?”

Dib waved his arms around.

Gaz smirked. “Pfft. Dork. Yeah, I see you, and Zim, too. Where the hell are you guys?”

“Very, _very_ far from home,” Dib said with a weak laugh. “We’re on a planet called Dendroba. There are frog people here. Also, insanely good fungus coffee.”

“Gross,” Gaz said.

“Only if you think about it for any length of time,” Dib said. “But that’s not important. How are you? What’s going on back on Earth? Why didn’t you answer me yesterday?”

“Jeez, calm down,” Gaz said, brushing her short, purple bangs out of her face. Zim could make out blue sky and a hint of foliage behind her. “I didn’t have my phone on me. I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Busy with what? Apocalypse stuff?” Dib asked.

“Yeah, apocalypse stuff. Hunting scorchbeasts and shit.”

Zim approached the podium, concerned. “What? What are these scorched beasts?”

“She’s joking, Zim,” Dib said, but then glanced timidly at the screen. “Right?”

“I can’t believe space travel has made you even _more_ gullible,” Gaz said.

Dib laughed a little too forcefully. “HA, yeah, whatever, but did the world end or not?”

Gaz sneered. “What are you talking about? Why would the world end?”

“Oh, no reason. Except for the fact that when we left, an unstable oligarch with access to nuclear silos had declared himself ruler of the world,” Dib said sarcastically.

“Oh, Supreme Elite World Emperor Man?” Gaz asked, as if recalling a distant memory. “He’s old news, dude. Took care of that issue weeks ago.”

Dib blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You know how you were griping about his whole storytelling ban thing?”

Dib snorted. “OK, my main gripe was with the general concept of a dictatorship, but yeah, I guess the storytelling ban kind of killed my career in sociology and folklore, so…”

“He extended the ban to all forms of narrative media,” Gaz said.

Zim and Dib exchanged glances, waiting for her to continue. Eventually, she realized they weren’t catching on.

“Including video games, dummies,” she explained.

“Ooohhh,” said Dib and Zim at the same time.

Gaz slumped onto what appeared to be a park bench. “Obviously, that was unacceptable.”

“Gaz… did you lead an uprising?” Dib asked.

“Not on purpose.”

“What the hell do you _mean,_ ‘not on purpose’?!”

“I mean, I hacked into the oversight program so I could keep playing, and I guess some people got wind of that, and maybe got a little inspired, and we ended up taking down SEWEM’s whole network, and… yeah,” Gaz said with a limp shrug.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Dib breathed, hands steepled in front of his mouth. “What happened? Like, what’s going on now?”

“He’s charged with a slew of crimes against humanity and will be prosecuted in an international court in a couple months. In the meantime, things are weirdly back to normal. Or, as normal as things get around here,” Gaz said.

Dib shook his head in awe. “Gaz, I can’t believe you led a revolution.”

“I mean, barely,” Gaz said, crinkling her nose in distaste. “It’s not a big deal. It just happened. I would have told you sooner but you’ve been off the grid. I thought you died.”

“I…” Dib leaned back and chewed his lip. Zim moved a little closer. “I’m sorry. Things have been…”

“We’ve been very busy as well,” Zim cut in, folding his arms behind his back. “Dib hacked a Battle Zoo, and we took it down from the inside.”

Gaz lifted one pierced brow. “What the fuck is a Battle Zoo?”

Zim elbowed Dib. “Go on. Tell the Gaz-beast of our glorious triumph.”

With a little more prodding, Dib gave in and recounted their adventure on “Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo,” leaving out the near-death experiences, Zim’s PAK corruption, and the tiny detail that the station’s mastermind was still on the loose and threatening a new era of Irken domination. Zim kept his mouth shut. He knew as well as Dib that Gaz didn’t need those worrisome footnotes. The point was that they’d emerged victorious.

“Wow… I’m kinda disappointed I wasn’t there to see all the explosions,” Gaz commented at the end of Dib’s tale. “And to see Zim get the snot kicked out of him.”

Dib clapped a hand over Zim’s mouth and spoke before the Irken could shoot back an insult. “You could have come with us, you know. Hell, you still can. We just have to repair some stuff before we come back to Earth.”

“So you’re not just… coming back to Earth and staying? You’d come back, then leave again?”

Zim hoped Dib could read his sister’s limited facial expressions better than _he_ could, because he was having trouble diagnosing Gaz’s mood. Her narrow eyes appeared calm and neutral as she watched them through the screen.

Dib’s brows drew together. “Um, yeah, I guess that’s kind of been my plan.”

Gaz nodded slowly, her mouth a flat line.

Dib adjusted his glasses, even though they didn’t need adjustment. “Gaz… I’m sorry I left like I did.”

Gaz shrugged. “You gave me the option to come along. I turned you down. No biggie.”

“Yeah, but… Things could have gone so, so bad on Earth. And I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“Lucky for Earth, _I_ was,” Gaz said.

Dib didn’t reply. He just stood there, hands tight around the lip of the podium.

Gaz’s icy façade thawed, and when she spoke again, it was with a gentleness Zim had rarely witnessed from her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that the world keeps spinning without you. It’s not all on your shoulders, you know?”

“I know,” Dib said, a little too quickly.

A red light blinked on the podium, and a timer appeared in the corner of the screen. Zim readied his chip card to pay for more time, but Dib held up a hand to stay him.

“Hey, so, we need to get going, but I’m so, so happy to know you’re OK,” Dib said, smiling warmly at the slightly pixelated image of his sister.

“Me too. I’m glad you aren’t in another space prison or something,” Gaz said. “Where did you say you’re going next?”

“We have to pick up supplies on a planet called Currus. We have some repair work to do and some other…” Dib’s eyes flicked toward Zim as he searched for the right phrasing. “… errands to run. But I’ll keep you informed as much as I can.”

“Cool. No more month-long droughts or I’ll find a way to come out there and kick your asses myself,” Gaz threatened.

“Fair enough,” Dib said. His smile faded. “I had one other thing I wanted to ask about…”

“Dad’s fine,” Gaz said.

“How did you – Never mind. I guess that’s good news,” Dib said. “What am I saying? Of _course_ it’s good news, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Gaz. “You know Dad. I think he’s disappointed that certain experimental regulations are coming back, but he’s rolling with it.”

A pause. Zim pointed at the timer to remind Dib that he had less than a minute left in the call.

“He asks about you,” Gaz said. “He’s been worried. We’ve _both_ been worried. Want me to tell him you called?”

“Sure,” Dib said.

“OK. I, um, love you, or whatever,” Gaz said, wincing at her own words and checking over her shoulder to look for eavesdroppers. “So don’t fucking disappear on me again.”

“Then keep your phone on you so you don’t miss my calls,” Dib said.

“I couldn’t have my phone with me before. I was at a-” Gaz pressed her fingers to her temple. “Ugh, fuck it. Yes. I’ll keep my phone on me. Stay safe, space gays.”

Dib grinned. “You too, Earth gay. I love you.”

Gaz flashed a peace sign, and the transmission ended.

Dib closed his eyes for a few seconds, then turned to Zim. “You were weirdly quiet for all of that. You good?”

“I was merely being polite so that you could maximize your time conversing with your sister,” Zim said, hands on his hips.

“You? Polite?” Dib scoffed. He tousled Zim’s wig, and Zim halfheartedly batted him away. “You sure you aren’t still terrified of her?”

“Oh, like you aren’t?” Zim retorted, backing out of range and fixing his mussed wig.

Dib bounced his shoulders in a “I guess you got me there” sort of way. He held the communication room door open for Zim, who marched past him with his hands clasped over his wig, in case Dib wanted to mess with it again.

“I could have paid for more time, you know,” Zim said once they’d swum through the crowd to the comparative calm of the tram platform.

“I didn’t really have anything else to say. Unless you wanted to tell her about…” Dib inclined his head toward Zim’s back.

Zim scowled. “She doesn’t need to know.”

“Exactly. The shorter our conversations, the less chance she has to pick us apart,” Dib said. “I have a feeling she wouldn’t like the idea of us hunting down Beep. I wouldn’t put it past her to actually find a way to catch up with us in space. Between Dad’s lab and your base, she has plenty of resources.”

“My base is locked down. There’s no way she could get in.”

Dib blinked at Zim skeptically.

Zim tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling a bit foolish. “Right. I suppose if any human could circumvent my ingenious security measures, it would be the Gaz.”

“Yup. Seems like she can pretty much do anything. For example: casually free the world from an egomaniacal dictator, thereby preventing a global calamity,” Dib said.

“Zim must admit… That was a fairly impressive feat.”

Dib hummed, looking a little deflated.

_Oh._

“But that was only one potential worldwide disaster,” Zim continued, crossing his arms haughtily. “You hindered hundreds of my attempts at global conquest. Historically, you have been a _massive_ ass-pain with a much longer list of times you defended the Earth from destruction.”

Dib’s cheeks flushed, and he covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I’m being so stupid and petty. That’s not what this is about. I’m happy that the Earth is back to normal, and I’m proud of Gaz for ‘accidentally’ setting it right again. Did I tell her that? Shit, I don’t think I said I was proud of her.”

“I’m certain she knows,” Zim said, because it seemed like the right thing to say in a moment like this.

Their train pulled into the station, and they filed into a car. The benches were all occupied, so Dib and Zim held onto a pole in the aisle, Zim fitting neatly under Dib’s arm as they both tried to avoid contact with the crush of aliens around them.

“I should have said something,” Dib said as the train lurched forward.

Unsure of what to say, Zim simply leaned his head against Dib’s side. Something gurgled in the human’s abdomen, and Zim jabbed a sharp finger into Dib’s stomach.

“Ow! Zim, what the fuck?”

“Now it is the _Dib_ who is hangry,” Zim accused.

“I’m not hangry. I’m a normal amount of pissed at you for stabbing me in the gut,” Dib said. His stomach growled again, and his expression turned sheepish. “But... if you know of a good place to grab a snack, maybe we could check it out on the way back to the ship.”

Zim smiled up at Dib. “Zim knows a place.”

*****

Zim lay on his belly along the top of the ship’s fin, wedging the dislodged elevator into position while Dib and GIR munched on a picnic below him.

“Seriously, Zim, this is the best sandwich I’ve had in my _life_ ,” Dib said.

Zim leaned over the edge of the fin to watch as Dib took another bite and moaned in religious ecstasy. “Yes yes, so you’ve said. But if you feel the need to continue to praise my snack expertise, I won’t stop you.”

“I think I’m crying,” Dib said around a mouthful.

“Me too! Me too!” GIR insisted. He leaned back against Dib and unleashed a torrent of tears as he shoved his own sandwich into his mouth.

A little shiver of delight zipped from the base of Zim’s spine to the tips of his antennae. He forced himself to sound gruff. “Well, hurry up. I need your stupid, long body to hold the elevator in place while I reconnect it.”

“Let me savor this, would ya?” Dib wiped crumbs from his chin with the back of his hand. “Pushy lizard, always in a hurry…”

Zim released an exaggerated sigh and, resting his chin in his hand, continued to watch as Dib and GIR ate their lunches. He only noticed he was smiling when his cheeks started to get sore.

At long last, Dib swallowed his final bite and stood up. “Alright, space-boy, show me where you need me.”

Zim quickly flattened his expression and instructed Dib on where to stand to support the elevator while he worked on it. As GIR sang nonsense songs beneath them and Dib prattled on about South American mythology, Zim joined wires together and welded metal edges. Even through the purple haze of the garage column, the traces of sunlight that reached Zim’s skin felt lovely. Maybe they could come back here, once they’d taken care of their “errands.” They could even bring Gaz out to Dendroba. Zim wondered what her opinion would be on the Dendroban equivalent of pizza that some of the downtown restaurants served. Zim imagined she’d like the high-speed trains that connected various supercities to each other, too.

“Hey, Zim?”

Zim’s eyes snapped up to find Dib looking at him curiously. “Yes? What?”

Dib reached over the edge of the fin and rested his thumb beneath Zim’s eye, his other fingertips ghosting above the side of Zim’s face. Zim neither spoke nor pulled away from the touch. Dib’s eyes – dark like a river stone at the edges, bright as honey near the pupil – seemed to search for something, and Zim fought the instinct to shy away.

“Dib-stink, what is it?” Zim tried again.

Dib blinked a few times, like he’d gotten dust in his eyes. Zim should have given him goggles instead of just telling him to look away while he worked. The fool never listened.

“It’s nothing,” Dib said, and wiped his thumb across Zim’s cheek before drawing his hand back. “You just had a smudge.”

“Thanks,” Zim said slowly. “Shall we test it?”

“What? Oh, the elevator, right.”

Dib stayed outside while Zim toggled the fin controls from the cockpit. To Zim’s relief, Dib reported that both elevators appeared to be functioning normally. Once Zim tested sealing and pressurizing the cabin a few times, he was convinced that the raggedy old ship was space-worthy once more.

With the three travelers safely inside the repaired vessel, Zim signaled the garage to pull them out. The ship rose through the ether-field and breached the surface of the garage in a burst of golden sunshine. Dib shielded his eyes, his smile brighter than ever in the pure daylight.

Zim revved the engines experimentally. “Ready?”

Both Dib and GIR (who had situated himself in Dib’s lap) gave Zim a pair of enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Here we go!” Zim shouted as he diverted full power to the thrusters.

The vessel rocked back and blasted skyward, flattening its passengers against their seats. Despite the ominous rumble of the overextended engines, a sparkling thrill coursed through Zim’s body as the trees shrank away behind them. Gradually, the sky paled as they pierced new layers of atmosphere.

A flash of light, and then a field of infinite stars spread across the windshield. On either side of the ship, the haloed curve of the planet’s surface fell away, a shrinking green and gold sphere. Dib leaned forward to watch the planet as they rocketed away from its pull.

When Dendroba was a mere marble in the distance, Zim eased the engine and let the cabin fall quiet. Zim melted back into his seat, relieved that their transportation had remained intact (not that he doubted his own handiwork, of course). He flipped on the autopilot and let his head fall against Dib’s shoulder. GIR took that as an invitation to sprawl himself between both Dib and Zim’s laps.

“How far is Currus?” Dib asked, kicking his feet up on the dashboard. Zim didn’t bother chiding him.

“About 40 hours from here. Want to play a game? Or we could put on a movie,” Zim suggested.

“Maybe later. I think I just want to watch the stars for a bit,” Dib said.

“You humans. So dazzled by the basic components of the universe,” Zim teased.

“I didn’t say you had to watch them with me.”

Zim crossed his arms stubbornly. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

Dib chuckled. “OK, good.”

Dib’s arm shifted behind Zim to rest around his shoulders, and Zim luxuriated in the warmth of it.

“Thank you,” Dib said, softly.

“You’re welcome,” said Zim.

Back on Oobli A, Dib had described the average color of the universe as beige. “Cosmic Latte,” he called it. Or the Earth scientists called it. Or whatever. It didn’t matter, because it didn’t make sense. There was too much darkness in the universe for it all to average out to beige, but also too much light. Every star could be the sun of another planet, and Zim imagined the red sands of Sirus Minor and the green canopy of Dendroba and the boundless blue of Earth’s oceans, and it simply couldn’t be true that if all those worlds were chucked into a cosmic blender, it would all come out gross and grey and boring.

The universe was too colorful for that.

There was so much more of it to see. He just needed time.

Time which he could purchase on Currus.

Yes, he’d find what he needed on Currus, and then Zim could show Dib the full, magnificent spectrum of the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, darlings. As always, your comments make my heart glow, and I’m so happy to hear back from you, even though I’m bad at replying! (Because I’m like… these cool people don’t want me to bother them with my goofy, grateful ramblings…) 
> 
> Soon, the saga continues on Currus…
> 
> (Yes, I know that Cosmic Latte technically refers to the average color of light in the universe. Just roll with me here. I studied psychology and studio art, OK? I’m doing my best.)


End file.
